


Destiny Isn't Kind

by izzygrl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, F/M, Slytherin AU, Slytherin Harry, because fuck you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9598937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzygrl/pseuds/izzygrl
Summary: Facing fame and new prejudices, Harry struggles to cope at Hogwarts as he endures hostile housemates, a school full of students who don't trust him, and an evil power rising to destroy him...again.(A Harry Potter slytherin au)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ayo! The italics is my rewrite of the beginning of chapter seven at the sorting ceremony. Y'all know his backstory
> 
> Mandatory 'please don't sue me' caption: Don't own HP/aren't associated with it

 

_ The echo of his footsteps became fainter with each passing second as a rising tide of whispers overtook the hall - Harry surreptitiously wiped his sweaty palms on the robes, hoping it wouldn’t stain. _

_ “Potter did she say?” _

_ “The Harry Potter?” _

_ The raggedy hat dropped over his eyes, abruptly obscuring the whole school craning to get a look. He took a deep breath and waited. _

_ “Hmm,” said a gravelly voice in his ear. “Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. A clever mind. There’s talent and … my goodness. A thirst to prove yourself. How interesting. So where shall I put you?” _

_ Harry gripped the edges of the stool, knuckles white, concentrating. Not Slytherin, Not Slytherin. _

_ “Not Slytherin? But you could be great you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that.” A new resilience steeled his voice, and a sense of dread washed over Harry as the sorting hat boomed. “Better be, SLYTHERIN!”  _

  
  


Silence. A few of his fellow housemates began to clap, but were quickly silenced as he walked over on shaky legs, every eye trained on his figure. There was no movement from the other houses. He sat down quickly, opposite a friendly face wearing a badge that read Prefect.

A voice yelled “Gemma!” and she redirected her attention, leaving him on his own.

He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat Harid, who caught his eyes and gave him a thumbs up; however, the corners of his eyes were tight, and he had the distinct feeling that Hagrid’s heart wasn’t in it. A sinking feeling overcame him.

There were few to be sorted left, but the names blurred together. Suddenly, the group was down to a few students. Then it was Ron’s turn. Harry crossed his fingers under the table, hoping for the unlikely, when a second later the hat shouted, “Gryffindor!”

Harry slumped further in his seat as Ron strutted towards his new home. He distantly heard another name get sorted into Slytherin; he stood mechanically and clapped at the boy who proudly sat down. The difference in enthusiasm from his sorting shot a pang through his chest, but he shut it down quickly. It shouldn’t be a surprise that Hogwarts didn’t want him any more than the Dursley’s did.

Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away. Harry, meanwhile, looked down at his empty plate. He had only just realized how hungry he should be - as the pumpkin pasties seemed ages ago - but he couldn’t work up the appetite.

Albus Dumbledore rose. He was beaming at the students, his arms spread wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered but Harry didn’t know whether to laugh or not.

“Is he … a bit mad?” he asked the Prefect.

“Mad?” said Gemma airily. “He’s a total nutter. I don’t understand how the old kook still has his job. Lucius Malfoy has been trying to get him fired for  _ years  _ now. Potatoes, Harry?”

Harry's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. The Dursley’s had never exactly starved Harry, but he’d never been allowed to eat as much as he liked. Dudley had always taken anything he’d really wanted. Harry piled his plate with a bit of everything and began to eat, his previous discomfort forgotten. He could hear a snort to the left of the Bloody Baron and saw Draco looking at him with mild distaste. The boy next to him, Blaise, captured his attention in conversation before he could retort.

Despite the chatter that permeated the room, Harry had a quiet dinner. Nobody seemed willing to invoke the disdain of the other Slytherins to simply chat when there were plenty of other people around. Still, pieces of conversation floated his way.

“I’m three-quarters,” said Blaise. “My dads pure-blood but my mum is only half." He looked around the table, eyes falling on Draco. "I don’t even have to ask you Malfoy.”

Everyone laughed as Draco smirked, “Pure-blood of course. You wouldn’t expect anything less from a family like mine.” Crabbe patted him on the back while Goyle looked like he was attempting to do something akin to smiling.

On Harry’s other side, Pansy Parkinson and a bull-faced girl (who he recalled to be Millicent Bulstrode) were talking about their summers. Pansy was bragging about her vacation homes while the other girl just listened, grunting at appropriate intervals. After the conversation died out, Pansy would sneak glances at Draco, and glared at Harry once she noticed he caught on.

Harry, who was feeling overwhelmed but sleepy, looked up at the high table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Still, he let his gaze roam. The nervous man from the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, sat next to someone he didn’t recognize.

It happened suddenly. The hooked-nosed teacher looked straight into Harry’s eyes and a sharp, hot pain, flared across the scar on his forehead.

“Ouch!” Harry clapped a hand to his head, trying to suppress the stinging in his eyes.

“What is it?” asked Gemma.

“N-nothing.”

The pain had disappeared as quickly as it had come. Yet the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher  was hard to shake off.

He didn’t want to pass up the chance to interact with the only person willing to speak with him, so he swallowed and asked quickly, “Who’s that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?’ 

“Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous,” she said with an amused laugh. “That's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to - everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape. We’re all waiting for the day Dumbledore comes to his senses and finally gives it to him.” Then she leaves him alone again.

Harry, with nothing better to do, watches Snape for a while, but he never look at him again.

At last, Professor Dumbledore stood. The hall fell silent for the third time today.

"Ahem - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins, and a burst of pride swelled in Harry’s gut. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did.

"He's not serious?" he muttered to Gemma.

"Must be," she said, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere -- the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed. Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself into words. "Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

And the school bellowed:

Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot.

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Slytherin first years followed Gemma through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, down several flights of marble staircases, and past the dungeon. Harry’s legs were lead again, but only because he was so tired and full of food. He was too sleepy to even be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed. They descended another staircase, yawning and dragging their feet, and Harry was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

Gemma’s voice cut across the group, “Here we are."

At first Harry thought she had gone mad as they were staring at a stone wall. But as she enunciated “Salazar” the wall opened. She walked backwards as she spoke, “The password changes every fortnight. We’ve learned to make the first one easy as first years kept getting locked out and get points taken off for staying out after curfew.”

She led the way into their common room. The room was made of rough stone and round, green lamps were fastened to the wall. He could see the fireplace crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece, several students in ornate chairs silhouetted around it.

Harry heard Blaise gasp beside him and glanced over. He was staring to their left, where some students had left a room he hadn’t noticed. Inside you could see through the Great Lake as students signed to the merpeople.

The two boys exchanged wide-eyed looks before returning their attention to Gemma, who was directing girls through one door to their dormitory and they boys through another. At the top of the staircase they found their beds at last: five four posters hung with emerald, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed. He was between Blaise and Draco, but he couldn’t muster up the energy to care.

“Great food isn’t it?” Blaise muttered.

Harry was going to ask Blaise if he’d had any of the treacle tart, but he fell asleep almost at once.

Perhaps Harry had eaten a bit too much, because he had a very strange dream. He was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban, which kept talking to him, telling him he was proud he was a Slytherin, that it was his destiny. Harry told the turban he didn't want to be in Slytherin; it got heavier and heavier; he tried to pull it off but it tightened painfully -- and there was Malfoy, laughing at him as he struggled with it. Then Malfoy turned into the hook-nosed teacher, Snape, whose laugh became high and cold - there was a burst of green light and Harry woke, sweating and shaking.

He rolled over and fell asleep again.

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-d
> 
> Headcanon about signing to merpeople by queerandgrumpy from tumblr
> 
> until next time <3


End file.
